Remember Me
by Corrinth
Summary: Mac Taylor & the CSI's find themselves dealing with the death of a VIP; a mysterious case that leaves them with evidence that makes no sense, a suspect who is lying and a body that evaporates. Nothing makes sense, until Mac gets a visit from the X-Men...
1. Chapter 1

Story disclaimer : I own neither CSI: New York nor X-Men. I am making no money from this. It should be noted that this story is completely AU to the X-Men stories written by Marvel and by Lamby and myself. The only character I lay claim to is Vixen (Ilehana). I have borrowed ideas here and there from the X-Men films (X-Men, X-Men United, X-Men The Last Stand, and X-Men First Class), possibly the cartoons and Evolution as well as my own stories. If I have snaffled anything from anywhere else, all credit goes to the teams involved.

Authors Note : I've been dying to write a CSI fic but was unable to come up with a suitable plot/murder storyline so I decided to twin it with X-Men. It all stems from Vixen stomping her metaphorical feet and demanding to be introduced to Mac Taylor.

**Scene One**

Senator Robert Kelly was a middle aged man with greying hair, wearing an expensive charcoal-grey suit, white shirt and grey tie, his thin steel-rimmed glasses sat firmly on the bridge of his nose. He was talking energetically into a webcam atop the monitor of his computer. His hands never rested on the top of the expensive mahogany, leather topped desk, always moving, animating his well-rehearsed speech. His face lit only by the light of the monitor, he was back lit by the New York skyline at night. As Kelly finally ran out of words, the recipient of the call was free to speak.

"Senator Kelly, I understand your concern but these cases are relatively isolated. These people, in the majority, want to lead normal lives."

"Mr President, these... people..." Kelly spat the word as if it left a nasty taste in his mouth. "Are walking weapons! They have already attacked several people here in New York, they took... my son..."

"Robert, please believe me, I am truly sorry for your loss," the words were spoken softly, acknowledging the hurt in Kelly's breaking voice, then steeled again as he continued, "but I cannot advocate any form of violent movement against people who pose us no threat."

"No threat!" Kelly's indignant horror presented itself in his voice, his facial expression and the fist that thumped onto the desk. He was beginning to sweat as he stumbled over words that fought to escape his lips. He dropped his head to gather himself. A deep breath allowed him a moment to steady himself and his voice. "Mr President, these monsters are nothing more than terrorists who have no need for guns or bombs. They are vicious animals, dangerous, rabid..."

"Senator Kelly!" The President snapped, incensed beyond listening to any more of Kelly's ranting. Kelly, surprised by the Presidents tone, was stunned into silence. "The bad apples in this society who were responsible for the death of your son have been brought to justice! I wish I didn't have to remind you that the report from the Secret Service states that if you and your colleagues hadn't been so keen to move against these people then your son might never have been killed."

"His death proves that these monsters are capable of anything, Mr President!"

"Robert," The President pinched the bridge of his nose with frustration, "do you know how many murders occur in New York City every year? Are you suggesting that your son's killers carried out each and every one of those? That their people are responsible for every act of violence?"

"No, Mr President, I am merely trying to persuade you of the risk they pose..."

"There is no reason to believe that any of the others will move against us, provided that we treat them for who they claim to be – honest American citizens. I cannot, and will not, sanction any action such as you are suggesting, Robert, simply because they are a little different from you and I."

"Mr President..." The appeal was lost as the President rode over Kelly's words.

"Robert, it's late and I have told you my decision, the answer is no!"

And with that, the view-screen went dead, plunging Kelly and the room into relative darkness. Silence echoed through the room. Kelly's face dropped into his hands as he tried to process the depth of his failure. He had failed to persuade the President of the danger that the latest outsider group presented, and he had failed to gain true justice for his son, his only child, his only blood relative...

"Senator...?"

Kelly's head snapped up, but he could see nothing in the room until his assistant switched on the light, low so as not to startle him. She sauntered over to him, hands behind her back and black skirt swaying as she moved her hips. She asked him gently if everything was alright. Kelly took a great breath and blew it out, throwing his head back into the headrest of his chair. After a long time, his head levelled again.

"Lisa, what are you doing here so late?" His words were kindly concerned even as he wondered how much of his argument with the President she might have over heard.

"You seemed so agitated earlier this afternoon sir." Lisa was stood behind Kelly's chair, she began kneading his shoulders. Kelly's brow furrowed in consternation, she had never been so familiar with him before, but her small hands were skilled, erasing the tension that had been building up all day and night. He let himself relax into her ministrations. "I wanted to be here in case you... _needed _me."

There was no mistaking her words as those nimble fingers loosened and then removed his tie, began to undo the buttons on his shirt. Kelly drew his pretty, blonde assistant onto his lap, winding his hands into her hair as she began to kiss him, her erstwhile hands stroking him and kneading his muscles moving ever downward.

A swoosh of air, as if someone had rushed silently past them, caught Kelly's attention. He broke away from her kisses, hushed her as she protested. He tried to look around the room, resisting Lisa as she tried to turn his face back towards her. They fought for control briefly before Kelly simply gave Lisa a sudden and sharp shove. She fell backwards landing in an ungainly heap on the floor, glaring up at him, green eyes flashing yellow in her anger. Kelly was too busy looking about him to notice.

Something slimy slapped his face. It was wet, sticky and a sudden smell of damp moss assaulted his nose. Kelly touched where it had hit, his fingers coming away with tendrils of stretching phlegm. He grimaced even as he eyes were drawn to a body in the nearest corner of the ceiling, face green and eyes hidden behind what looked like goggles. The creature, whatever it was, grinned at him, before throwing something in Lisa's direction.

She moved almost in a blur, leaping up and catching her prey whilst turning Kelly in his chair. A needle pierced his thigh as she pinned Kelly to his chair with inhuman strength. He cried out in pain as fire burnt through his veins, his eyes bulging outward to a supernatural distance. Kelly thought his whole body would explode; his senses turned inward and focused so much on the pain and suffering he was experiencing that he failed to notice Lisa pat him gently on the cheek and make her way out of the room. His skin became white hot and tight, his body going rigid, never had he dreamt of such agony. He was going to die!

The creature on the ceiling slapped a long tongue out again to cover Kelly's eyes in phlegm to stop them popping out of their sockets, then flicked his tongue at the window, opening it. He gave Kelly a cheeky grin that the Senator could not see, leapt out of the window and was gone.

Foam frothed from Kelly's mouth even as he tried to reach the phone on his desk to dial 911. He fell to his knees, arm reaching and reaching for the phone, stretching beyond human means, but before he could grip the receiver, Senator Robert Kelly gave a last rasp and died...


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note : One reference of mild language contained within. Thanks for the reviews Sugary-Sweet-Lemon-spy and Lamby.

**Scene Two**

Detective Don Flack met the head of the New York Crime Lab, Detective Mac Taylor as he pulled up in the Avalanche outside the building that housed New York's latest homicide crime scene. Flack went straight to the boot to pull out Mac's silver case that contained his forensics kit whilst Mac paused to adjust his shades and removed the keys from the ignition.

"Hey Don." Mac greeted the younger man as he shut the door of the car behind him, a zap of the key fob locking the door. "How're you holdin' up?"

To be fair, Mac noticed, Don didn't even flinch. He was made of tough stuff. Ever since the death of his girlfriend and colleague, Jess Angell, Flack had been a shadow of his former self. No longer the wise-cracking, smart-assed, go-getter of previous times, Don had become as obsessed with work as Mac himself. It worried Mac, as Don's friend, that he could see so much of what he had been through after the death of his wife. But there was no stink of alcohol permeating the air between them as there had been on previous occasions, Flack had shaved three days in a row and a little life had returned to his eyes, which was a definite improvement on recent times.

"Better." Flack answered honestly. He chuckled as Mac stifled a yawn. "Long night?"

"Covered a lot of ground and got nowhere." Mac grimaced, then smiled sideways at Flack. "You know how it gets sometimes. So... you sounded puzzled on the phone earlier, you wanna clue me in?"

"You and I have seen some pretty weird shit in our time, Mac, but this one?" Flack raised his eyebrows as he opened the door to the building for Mac. "Good luck."

Mac led the way across the foyer, past the security desk and hit the call button for the elevator. Something in Flacks voice made Mac stay silent. All in all, Mac was a patient man. He knew that Stella Bonesera, Danny Messer and Sheldon Hawkes were all up at the primary crime scene already and that they would be more forthcoming than Flack. The elevator doors opened to reveal a plush lift with oak-effect panelling and a lush, red deep pile carpet. Without even noticing the surroundings, Mac and Flack took the long ride up to the penthouse office suite.

The elevator doors opened straight into the lobby where a blonde woman was sat on a low sofa talking to two uniformed police officers. She was clutching at a tissue, and had quite clearly been crying. "Lisa Dunbarr." Flack announced quietly. "Left the office at 18:00 last night, claims she went to a restaurant and on to a club afterward. She found the vic when she came into the office this morning at 07.30. Called 911 straight away."

"Seven thirty? Seems a bit early for a receptionist?"

"P.A, Mac, P.A." Don chuckled softly, careful not to offend their witness. "Reckons she gets compensated for working longer than normal hours, if you know what I mean?"

"You think they were involved?" Mac read from Flack's suggestive tone.

"Hard to say." Flack paused as his cell rang. "Excuse me." He waved Mac on into the office.

As Mac walked through the door, he passed Hawkes taking prints from the door handle. Hawkes greeted him softly, which Mac returned. Danny was taking samples from something on the window frame. Stella was taking some final shots of the body. Like the lobby before it, the office was remarkably clean and tidy, no signs of struggle except for the body lying on the floor. Stella finished up, and then put the camera back in its case before turning to greet her friend and boss.

"Hey Mac."

"Senator Robert Kelly." Mac pulled on a pair of latex gloves and knelt beside the body. He touched the gelatinous substance covering Kelly's eyes, grimaced as it glooped about his fingers and came away in faintly green strings. "What's this?"

"No idea." Stella shrugged. "I've taken some samples to go back to the lab. But what you should really see is this."

Kneeling down at the Vic's side, she picked up both his arms and pulled them out in front. Mac's eyes opened wide as he realised that one arm was at least eight inches longer than the other. Confusion wrote itself across Mac's face even as Hawkes chimed in to say he'd never seen anything like it. Mac touched the longer arm almost hesitantly. The skin felt leathery, slack, whilst below the surface the arm itself was spongy, when Mac removed his finger the indentation returned to how it had been before. He looked at Stella, seeing her face pale as she looked at it, and grimaced as their eyes met.

"That has to be the weirdest thing I've ever seen."

"Agreed."

"What do you make of it, Hawkes?" Mac threw the question over to the Doctor.

"No idea. I'm as curious as you, seeing as Senator Kelly seemed fine at that press conference last week, both arms in working order."

"He used his right arm to fend off a journalist." Mac nodded. "And it definitely didn't look like this."

"I'd like to work with Sid on the autopsy of this one, if it's ok with you?"

"Sure." Mac agreed easily. "I'll be eager to hear your findings."

"Looks like we've got the same stuff on the window as on the eyes, Mac." Danny announced from across the room, sensing that they all needed to get away from the subject of the Vics very strange arm. The substance stretched as he took a final sample. "Gross."

"Pulled a number of prints from around the room." Hawkes added. "We've taken Lisa Dunbarr's prints and Sid'll take the Vics during autopsy for comparison and reference."

"Anything else?" Mac asked, not sure he wanted to know.

"Found an empty syringe beside the body and... footprint on the ceiling do ya?" Danny pointed to the corner of the ceiling nearest him. Mac frowned as he looked upwards, taking in a strange dirty mark on the ceiling. He turned his head almost upside-down to try and get a better look. Danny laughed. "You see it now?"

"Looks almost four toed." Mac commented, raising his eyebrows and pulling a face that registered shock but also acceptance. He'd seen stranger things today. He glanced over at the doorway as Flack entered the room.

"CCTV footage doesn't cover the office, but building security is burning the footage from the elevator, foyer and lobby for us. Lisa Dunbarr claims this door was open when she arrived this morning. And that the elevator was on the ground floor. Look like our perp left via the elevator."

"Hawkes, dust the elevator for prints? Danny, take the samples you've got back to Lindsay and Adam in the lab..." Mac's voice trailed off. His eyes had gone back to the body. The second arm, whilst staying the same length as before, had gone leathery and spongy like the first. Mac prodded it, only to get the same reaction as before. "What the hell?"

Hawkes was by the side of the body in a moment. He manipulated the body in several different ways, the quickly dropped the arm back to the Vics side. "Mac, this body's degrading. I've never seen anything like it, but there's a risk we will start losing evidence, fast."

"Get it back to Sid, Hawkes." Mac instructed, frowning deeply. "I want a full work up on what's going on, get prints before they degrade too, tox screen, pictures, the lot. I don't want to lose anything that might give us a lead on our killer."

"On it." Hawkes gestured to two uniforms hanging around outside the crime scene and Mac watched carefully over the three men as they manoeuvred the body into a bag and removed it from the scene. Danny, without prompting, handed his samples over to Hawkes before he left and went to dust the elevator after Hawkes and the body had gone.

"So we are assuming this is a homicide?" Stella asked Mac.

"Weird is what it is." Flack chimed in. "But there's no evidence of a murder weapon here, no signs of struggle, wallet and ID still on the body, so we might just be looking at the worlds strangest natural causes."

"Maybe." Stella responded. "But the vic was a senator so he'll get the full work up until we find out, right Mac? Mac?"

Mac had turned away from his colleagues to look about the scene without replying. Stella suspected that Mac was having one of his super-intuitive moments until she caught him looking out the window. She crossed to him to find he was watching an eagle flying in the distance. Mac was frowning again, and even looking remotely confused.

"What is it, Mac?"

"That bird," Mac pointed into the distance, "it was a bald eagle, and it was sat on the stonework out there, and I'd swear it was watching us."


	3. Chapter 3

Author's note : The OC in this chapter is mine. It's all her fault I started writing this in the first place. Short chapter, couldn't find a way to expand on it. Scientific problems with chapter four, might be a while before I can upload... grrr...

**Scene Three**

In a mansion in Westchester, which doubled as a school for gifted teenagers, the school days had just begun its afternoon lessons. The place was relatively quiet, with the exception of a three-a-side basketball game going on in the grounds. Inside, a tall, lithe woman in her mid-twenties, with long blonde hair pulled back into a dense pony tail that reached to the small of her back, had just arrived home. She was walking down the corridor to her father's study, moving with a predatory grace that stated her claim on this territory.

She tapped at the large, dark wood door, and then entered without waiting for a response. Her father, dressed in a smart black suit with a crisp white shirt and wine-red tie, was sat as ever in his wheelchair, positioned next to the large fireplace in which a small fire burnt low, for ambiance rather than warmth. As if he had been expecting her, there was a mug of black coffee waiting on a side-table next to his daughter's usual leather backed armchair on the opposite side of the fireplace.

Nothing passed between them except a cursory kiss on the cheek from daughter to father. She sat in the chair and sipped at her coffee, appreciating the warm hit of the coffee after a cold morning spent in the open. The man relaxed in his chair, obviously content to let her gather her thoughts before speaking. It wasn't easy to see the familial connection between these two individuals; she was taller than he, a more muscular frame due to their difference in lifestyles. Her blonde hair was soft and shiny, silken although its style suggested that not a lot of thought went in to her appearance, whilst he was bald. But as their eyes connected, that was where it showed, both had the same grey-blue eyes and piercing gaze that could see into the soul.

"Robert Kelly's death is no loss to society." The daughter threw out, apparently carelessly. "He will not be missed by his own or by our kind. Perhaps, at least, he will be at rest knowing that he and his son have gone to the same place... wherever that may be."

"He was a haunted man; that much is true."

"The detective in charge of the crime scene is a man haunted by death also." She looked pensive. Her father frowned at her. "I couldn't help it, he thinks that he keeps himself so locked up, but he shouts his losses so loudly there was no need to pry."

"I suppose we are all touched by death at some point in our lives, my dear, as you and I know only too well." He acknowledged her words without direct comment.

"I think we can trust him." She pushed her father's words away, and the hurt that went alongside them. Her father watched her body language along with her posture, right leg crossing over left, her fingers curling around the coffee mug square in front of her chest. "Of course, we don't have much choice right now with Cerebro out for the count. We need the technology at his disposal."

Her father nodded with a hint of regret. He wasn't used to being without his usual tools. But he trusted his daughter's instincts, in some ways more than he trusted his own, and he agreed that they would approach this Detective Taylor together to ask him for his help, and to offer him theirs.


	4. Chapter 4

**Scene Four**

Back at the New York Crime Lab, Mac and Stella had decided that divide and conquer was the best way to collect up the relevant information on the case. Concerned about the vic's body, Mac went straight to see Sid and Hawkes, leaving Stella to check up on the evidence collected at the scene. She went first to Lindsay, more curious about the goop they had found at the scene than in the CCTV footage that Adam was painstakingly analysing, or the prints that Danny was running.

"Hey Lindsay, what have you got for me?"

"Hey Stell." Lindsay gave Stella a huge grin. She had a self-satisfied look in her eye that made Stella realised that this was going to be good. "So, this gloop? It's spit."

"Saliva?" Stella pulled a disgusted face. "I've never seen saliva like that before, or in such big quantities."

"Guess you don't spend much time looking at frog spit." Lindsay responded, and Stella figured this was why she had that glint in her eye. "Yep, frog spit. The green colour is from algae that frogs sometimes ingest along with quantities of water that they need to store to create the mucus that protects their skins and aids gaseous exchange."

Stella took the sample bottle from Lindsay and held it up to the light. Sure, enough, there was a faint green tinge to it that made Stella feel as nauseous as if her face was going the same shade. She put the bottle back down a little too quickly, the bottle over-balancing and rolling in a tight circle about the surface. She indicated at another bottle on the bench. "Is that spit to?"

"No," Lindsay replied. "Did you know that frogs can stick to and climb vertical surfaces but they have to climb down backwards?"

"Backwards?" Stella was used to Lindsay's informational bursts, and so she patiently waited for Lindsay to continue.

"Yeah, backwards. You see, because their rear ends are so much bigger than their heads, if they came down head first, they'd well..."

"Fall heels over head." Stella finished with a smile. "Okay, I'll bite. Why?"

"Frogs used a method called wet adhesion to stick to surfaces in the same way a wet piece of paper sticks to glass. The mucus produced by their toe pads forms a layer of fluid between the surface and the discs. As long as no air bubble breaks that layer, they stick to the surface." Lindsay was clearly enjoying herself. "The tension is that close to the wire that the extra weight of the back end mixed with gravity would cause the frog to fall. That sample is the mucus found on the ceiling along with the four-toed footprint, which also showed signs of enlarged, circular toes similar to those in frogs."

Frog spit, frog mucus, frog footprints on the ceiling, a body that was _inhuman_ and no real signs of anything other than pure weirdness, Stella was beginning to wonder if this case was just some weirdo's idea of a practical joke on the CSI team. Thanking Lindsay for her educational report, Stella popped in on Danny.

"All the prints found at the crime scene were Senator Kelly's or from Lisa Dunbarr." Danny didn't even wait for a hello before launching into his report. "Guy had a damn good cleaner, or he never had any visitors."

"According to Flack, Lisa Dunbarr's diary showed that they'd had the cleaners in two days ago." Stella nodded. "Carpets, furniture, windows, the works. And no visitors since."

"So Lisa's lookin' real good as a suspect right about now."

Stella nodded, clapping Danny on the back before going in search of Adam and his CCTV footage.

When he got to the ME's office, Mac found Sid and Hawkes staring at a pool of water on one the autopsy tables. "You done with the autopsy already?" He asked, a little surprised that the two men could have finished so quickly with such a unique case.

"This is all that's left of our vic's body, Mac." Sid informed him, wonder and amazement clear in his voice.

"You're kidding." Mac insisted, convinced that the guys were playing some elaborate joke.

"Wish we were, Mac." Hawkes replied quietly. "We took a blood sample, fingerprints, DNA and photographs, but before we could start the autopsy, he just swelled up and..."

"Burst." Sid finished when Hawkes couldn't.

"Burst?" Mac clearly didn't believe them.

"Seriously, Mac, he just burst into water! Look, we took the liberty of recording the procedure since this case was one of a kind." Hawkes took up the story again, giving Sid a look that thanked him for providing a suitable adjective. He gestured at a screen and began to run it. Mac watched as Hawkes finished taking prints, Sid scraped under the Vic's nails, Hawkes drew some blood whilst Sid took a urine sample from the bladder. As they took photographs from all angles, sure enough, the Vic's body began to swell. It wasn't so obvious a first, but then both Hawkes and Sid stepped back and watched in disgust as the body popped, disappearing completely and nothing but water splashing all over the table.

Mac was speechless. He just couldn't believe was he was seeing. He ran the video back again and again, each time half-convinced that he would see a different conclusion to the recording, or see something that would tell him how Hawkes and Sid had managed such an elaborate deception, but there was nothing. Mac finally stopped running the playback, but couldn't find anything to say.

"We've run an analysis," Hawkes anticipated the question that might have been on the tip of Mac's tongue, "and found quantities of adenine, cytosine, guanine and thymine within the water."

"Those are the base nucleotides that make up DNA." Mac confirmed almost to himself, relieved to be able to associate something relatively normal to this case. "You're really serious on this?"

Both of them looked at him with straight faces and he nodded his acceptance. They weren't kidding. Okay, the case had just got weirder than ever. It wasn't humanly possible for a body to transform into water. Not possible at all. "Alright," he took a breath and tried to steady himself. His nerves were beginning to fray on this one. "I'll let you guys clean up. I'm going to see Adam, see if CCTV caught anything unusual."

Stella caught up with Mac, both of them on their way to see Adam. She filled him in on Lindsay and Danny's findings as they walked. In return, he filled her in on the crazy goings on in the morgue. As he had, Stella assumed it was a joke, until Mac was forced to show her the video of the autopsy-that-never-was. She went as silent as Mac had, her jaw dropped in amazement. Mac had to smile, knowing he'd have had a similar look on his face, not too much earlier. They went on to get the summary on the surveillance footage.

As always, Adam was muttering nonsense to himself as he reviewed the CCTV footage that Flack had provided him with. Both Stella and Mac paused to listen to a little of his inane babbling, but were unsure if it was a film he was quoting from or if he was just talking to himself. It made Stella smile and Mac frown. Mac cleared his throat and Adam spun round in his chair and greeted the pair enthusiastically.

"Lisa Dunbarr's lying." Adam's words cut off anything his audience might have said. Adam turned his chair back to his screen. "Senator Kelly never left the office; he arrived at 08.00 yesterday morning and never left. Watch this; Lisa leaves the office at 18.07, takes the elevator down to ground level, and leaves through the foyer. So far so good."

"But?" Mac asked quickly, getting the hint that there was more to this story.

"See here? 01.43 She returns to the office, then leaves again at 02.10, she lied."

"Gives her twenty seven minutes to commit murder. Plenty of time."

"Not to contradict you boss, but we are assuming this is murder?" Adam asked.

"All I know is that we have frog spit, giant frog prints, and frog mucus all over our crime scene. We had a body in the morgue with one arm 8.2 inches longer than the other, now all we have in the morgue is a puddle of water with some DNA fragments in it." Mac told Adam firmly. "Does that sound like natural causes to you? Stella, have Flack bring Lisa Dunbarr in, she's got some questions to answer..."

A/N : Big nod to the reference books "Animal" published by Dorling Kindersley and "Vertebrate Life (6th Ed)" by , C Janis, & J Heiser , without which this chapter would have been, well, very wrong instead of slightly dodgy. Yes, I have taken a few liberties; we'll just call it artistic licence and have done with it okay?


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note : Enter the Xavier's. Italics = telepathy

**Scene Five**

"I'm telling you, Detective, that isn't me! I don't know who it is, and I know she looks like me, but it. Isn't. Me!" And with each punctuated word, Lisa Dunbarr flicked a still of CCTV footage showing her arrival at the office in the dead of night at the two detectives on the opposite side of the table. She took a deep breath to calm herself. "Maybe the clock is out?"

"The system is top of the range, more to the point it's been checked over by the experts and its fine." Flack responded coldly. "You still wanna stay with this story?"

"It's not me, Detective Flack, I was at the Joy Club. Ask my friends – Elaine Kelsy and Gemma Cassidy, ask the Joy Club for their CCTV footage, I was there between about eleven and three am. Please, Detectives, you have to believe me!"

Mac held up a hand to silence Flack before he could speak again. He stood up to take a brief walk around their side of the interrogation room. He paused, eyes unwittingly meeting Stella's through the two-way mirror. He knew that she would send Hawkes, also behind the two-way mirror, for the footage. Mac's mind was working overtime. Instinctively, Mac was sure she was telling the truth, but then the evidence suggested otherwise...

"Can you explain this to me, Miss Dunbarr?" Mac collected up the stills that Lisa had flicked at Flack and showed her the crime scene photos of Senator Kelly's body with it's abnormal arms. Lisa's face betrayed confusion, as if she couldn't process what she was seeing, then disgust.

"Is that for real?"

"As hard as it is to believe, yes, these pictures are for real." Mac turned the picture so he was looking at it right way up for a moment. "What about this?"

Mac selected another picture, one of a large syringe with a long needle attached. He spun it to face Lisa, who looked blank and shook her head. When Mac informed her that her prints were all over it, she looked puzzled and distraught, shook her head over and over again. She denied ever seeing the syringe verbally and vehemently. When Flack looked at Mac, he simply nodded and jerked his chin toward the door.

"We'll look into your alibi, Miss Dunbarr." Flack beckoned to a uniformed officer stood outside the room who cuffed her and took her back to her cell. Less than thirty seconds later, Stella was in the room with the two men.

"You believe her." Stella's words were a statement, not a question. Mac simply shrugged. "Hawkes is on to the Joy Club now for footage. What are you thinkin', Mac?"

"I'm thinking she's telling the truth. Everything about her answers, her body language..."

"But the evidence says otherwise." Flack quoted Mac's own words at him. Mac shrugged again in response.

Mac and Stella went back to the Crime Lab, leaving Flack at the precinct. Stella immediately peeled off to see some of the lab techs about another case, and on the way to his office, Mac was accosted by three techs at once about separate cases. He tackled one quickly enough; she only needed his authorisation for a procedure via a signature and also received a smile for good measure. She peeled away from the group to continue her work. The second of the remaining techs began to argue with the third for Mac's attention, each talking over the other until they were trying to shout each other down.

"Enough!"

Mac's commanding voice, earned during his time with the Marines, echoed loudly throughout the suddenly silent lab. The two techs were stopped dead in their tracks, unmoving, and as Mac made to speak again to chastise them, his suddenly notice that the labs on either side of the corridor had stopped as well, and in the middle of what they were doing. Everything was as still as if it was a living photograph... Silence ruled the lab, something completely alien to Mac. Even in the dead of night there were always people working, machines beeping and so on. Mac stepped out from between the two techs, pacing a hesitant circle around them. This wasn't natural, something the scientist in him couldn't process. He touched one of their arms gently, then more firmly as there was no reaction to the initial touch. The tech rocked just a little from the pressure but failed to react in any other way. Mac might as well have been stood next to a mannequin. It was very unnerving for the practical, down-to-earth CSI.

_Do not be concerned, Detective Taylor._ A firm but low voice cut through the emptiness of the moment. Startled, Mac turned to see a man in an electric wheelchair coming towards him. The man was perfectly ordinary, his face showing that he was in his fifties, bald, his suit smart and well tailored. It was only when Mac met the man's eyes that he thought better of speaking. Those sharp blue eyes stung Mac, seeming to gaze straight into his soul. Mac forced himself to look away, and in doing so realised that the man was not alone.

One step behind the man's left shoulder was a tall, lithe woman with shining blonde hair, pulled back into a functional pony tail that reached her slim waist. She had the same, startling blue eyes as the man, who could only be her father. But there was a predatory glint to the eyes that snarled at him as his hand finally moved to his gun. She dropped her stance, ready to take the chance and rush him if he decided to pull the weapon free.

Mac considered his position for a moment, his team still frozen around him. He had no doubt that he could pull the weapon and let of a couple of shots before she could reach him, and yet he found himself wondering if that would stop her. Besides, the two of them were unarmed as far as he could see. The tension increased as he re-gripped his piece; her lips curled in the same moment and she let loose a feral snarl, not a human sound at all but something akin to a wild animal. He saw her shift her weight, ready to spring, until her father raised his hand. The snarl was silenced immediately, and her eyes met Mac's then, and as if by mutual consent she dropped her attack stance as he released his weapon, something he hadn't even consciously considered.

"Who are you?" Mac asked the question tersely, not liking the fact that his lab had been invaded and his team had become little more than a living – he hoped - waxworks. "What's wrong with my people?"

_Time has paused for them for just a few moments. They will be fine._ There was reassurance in the tone; Mac felt his fears ebbing away. _I know you have questions, many questions, but time is of the essence. My name is Charles Xavier, and we have come here to ask for your help._

"My help with what?" Mac glanced about him, suddenly realising that none of his alpha team were present. He wondered where Stella, Danny, Lindsay, Hawkes and Adam were, if they too were stopped in their tracks, frozen in time. What was this?

"We need your help confirming Robert Kelly's killer, and to offer you our services in bringing the culprits to justice." Xavier announced, and Mac noticed that Xavier's voice was somehow older and mellower with those words, but his words enough to retain Mac's attention. "Perhaps we could step into your office?"

Mac paused long enough to study the pair of strangers in his lab, unsure if he was safe to turn his back on the woman who was still tensed, every inch of her expecting an attack, ready to pounce if necessary. As if she sensed his concern; perhaps something passed between them as his eyes met hers, he couldn't be sure; she stepped forward and around him to lead the way to his office. Unerringly, she walked ahead, as if she'd been there before, opened the door and held it, waiting for her father and Mac to enter.

Mac perched on his desk, gesturing for the woman to take a seat on one of the brown leather seats, which she refused with a cold look. Instead, she returned to her place behind her father's shoulder, hands clasped behind her back. She reminded Mac of a sergeant trailing after an officer, or perhaps a bodyguard. His eyes flicked to beyond the glass walls of his office to his team, and in that moment the lab burst back into life, the only two looking startled being the two techs who had been arguing in front of Mac and theirs was only bewilderment that their boss was suddenly in his office instead of berating them. Both, seeing that he was now occupied with visitors, went about their business. He smiled to see his team normal and active again.

"They are completely unaware of anything amiss, Detective, of that I can assure you. But I have been remiss; perhaps you will allow me to introduce my daughter, Ilehana Xavier?"

"Detective Taylor." She nodded to him, just once, a small smile quirking the corners of her mouth.

"Mac." He insisted quietly, not quite knowing why. He offered her his hand, which she shook, and that was the first moment he recognised almost shyness as she gripped his hand gently but firmly.

"Mac then." Again, a small smile flashed across her face, and Mac suddenly realised this woman was afraid of herself, of letting herself go. Interesting. But then she was all down to business, asking him "Tell me, Mac, what do you know of Robert Kelly?"

"Not much more than most." He admitted. "A senator, a man passionate about his work, his son was kidnapped and killed by some terrorists about 18 months back. He's been pretty much off the grid ever since, out of the media spotlight, working some special projects for the President, so the rumours say."

Again, there was that glance between the two Xavier's. Communication without words. Xavier senior turned back to Mac and sighed. "Those were no ordinary terrorists, Detective Taylor. They were mutants."


	6. Chapter 6

**Scene Six**

The word "mutants" absurdly raised the image of teenage-mutant-ninja-turtles running about the city with their masks, weapons, artist names and gobbling pizza and three-eyed orange fish. He almost laughed, and then thought better of it as he saw the seriousness on the faces of the two people in front of him. Instead, he listened as Xavier senior explained the details of the mutation on an allele of the X chromosome that brought out amazing and unusual abilities in all mutants.

Professor Xavier smiled as he planted the word 'telepath' in Mac's head. Mac frowned, understanding what Xavier was saying but not convinced that he believed it. It was so tempting to ask... "Please don't ask me to tell you what you're thinking, Detective Taylor." Xavier smiled as he cut Mac off. "It's so predictable, and a polite telepath never chooses to invade the mind of another without their express understanding of what's involved."

"Of course they don't." Mac was, by now, beyond sceptical. A low chuckle from Ilehana made him look towards her.

"Perhaps I should give him a demonstration... if you wouldn't mind distracting his workforce for me?"

"Please do..." Xavier's eyes glazed over slightly, his brow creasing ever so slightly with concentration. Mac watched through the glass as his team all suddenly found the need to turn away from the office. He smiled to himself, as disconcerting as this suggestion and what it might involve was, thinking that he could simply have closed the blinds...

A soft grunt brought his attention back to Ilehana. Her eyes were focused in the wall behind him, glassy and cold. She looked to shrink before his eyes, and somehow Mac – unbelievably – found himself pretty sure that he knew what was about to happen. It didn't stop his jaw dropping as the tall, lithe blonde became a no-less-beautiful and graceful bald eagle; one was perched on the corner of his desk within arm's reach. The bird's head tipped to one side, her blue eyes meeting his as she judged his reaction. Mac shuddered to see the humanity in those eyes, so very, very wrong, and he realised that was what had unnerved him so much in Robert Kelly's office, even though he hadn't recognised it at the time. Curiosity got the better of Mac and he reached out to touch the feathers of the bird in front of him, to check if they were real. The bird, Ilehana, screeched indignantly and lunged for his fingers, deliberately snapping her beak less than a centimetre from the skin. Mac grinned wryly and muttered an apology, feeling like a fool for talking to a bird, even if that bird did normally walk in human form.

"You know," Ilehana mentioned some time later when Mac had recovered his composure a little. She was stood – human again - by one of the windows in Mac's office, staring out over New York City; she didn't even glance in his direction as she spoke telepathically, _we could simply have planted all of this information into your mind, and you would never have known that you never knew it before._

Mac was stunned again as he realised that Ilehana was also a telepath. He tried to wrap his head around what she had said, to little effect. It was only as he regarded her more warily now that he felt her, just touching his mind, not invading, like one of his techs waiting hesitantly on the edge of a group for him to finish a conversation. Waiting, watching... was she testing him? Nervous, Mac tried to follow her with his mind, to open his thoughts and welcome her in. Such was his concentration, he almost missed that the Professor was speaking again.

"My daughter is the first mutant that we know of to gain two abilities, Detective." The Professor explained. "We believe that her mother – though human, not mutant – had some proclivity towards accepting telepathy – allowing Ilehana to inherit the telepathic ability. Whilst most mutants develop their abilities during puberty, Ilehana could speak telepathically before she could verbally. It was still somewhat of a shock when she developed her morphing abilities at the age of fourteen."

"Okay. Enough." Mac used his own inherent ability for reading people to sense Ilehana's embarrassment that her father would so openly admit something so personal to her so freely. She acknowledged his cutting the conversation with a wry grin and a nod of thanks. "Let's say you've convinced me. How do I fit in to all this?"

"We need your help to confirm that the mutants we believe are responsible for Robert Kelly's death are the ones that killed him, and to trace them." Xavier senior informed him succinctly. "These mutants are convinced that a war is coming, Detective, a war between your kind and ours; and we are going to stop that war from beginning... at least for today."

"Can't you just..."

"Our range is limited, Mac, even combining our abilities." Ilehana returned impatiently, even as she asked her father _Why do they always ask that?_ "With your permission, I'd like to stay here as liaison, whilst my father returns to coordinate our own team."

"Liaison?" Mac had to smile at the word. "You sound as if you have done this before."

"There have been times when we are forced to interact with humans, like yourself, that would otherwise remain ignorant of the presence of mutants in their world, Detective." There was a heavy note to the Professor's tone, as if he regretted the need to involve Mac. "It might be necessary, but not always easy."

"I can understand that." Mac nodded, more to himself. He glanced at Ilehana and asked, without preamble, "Where do you want to start?"

He took Ilehana to meet Adam in the audio-visual suite, since she was convinced that Mac's reading of the witness had been correct and that Lisa Dunbarr had been telling the truth. She'd taken no convincing, to the point where Mac had actually challenged her about her father's statement about polite telepath's. Her less than patient reply was something along the lines of not needing to read his mind, she'd already got a good idea of who the culprit was and merely wanted to ensure the CSI's evidence confirmed it. She did, however reluctantly, ask permission to monitor his thoughts while they spoke with his team. Ever the scientist, curious, Mac agreed.

Adam's greeting to the newcomer was open-mouthed, stammering and awkward. Mac had to smile at his latest protégée's antics, more so at Ilehana's response which was nothing more than a passive nod and slight smile. Mac figured it could only be akin to the indulgent way an alpha wolf would treat an omega.

_Not an omega._ Ilehana reproached him gently. _An omega wolf wouldn't receive a second glance. Adam is far more important in your pack than that. I would never be so disrespectful. I would, more accurately, note it as an adult wolf looking indulgently upon a cub or juvenile. He does seem very young after all..._

Mac chuckled. He couldn't help it. She had voiced it so perfectly. But of course Mac's chuckle prompted Adam to go off into a long spiel about where he was up to with the case, and to silence him Mac suggested that he take a break. Looking bewildered and slightly offended, Adam hung his head as he walked out. Mac watched him go with a wry smile, and then punched up the CCTV footage showing Lisa Dunbarr entering the building where Kelly had been murdered.

"Can you play it frame by frame?" Ilehana asked.

"Sure." Mac replied, and did so.

"Freeze it there." Ilehana pointed at the screen.

"What is it?"

"The eyes." Sure enough, as Mac zoomed in on the picture, Lisa's eyes were burning yellow. "My father was right. This isn't Lisa Dunbarr. It's a mutant called Mystique."

She pulled out her I-phone, quickly found a certain file. Handing it to Mac, she watched his expression as the video showed Mystique's true form, blue skin with yellow eyes and flame red hair. He watched as she became an African-American woman, a man of Chinese descent, an acne-ridden teenager, an old woman, and finally a spitting image of the President himself.

"Useful, if unnerving." Mac finally commented, handing the phone back. Ilehana dialled a number, spoke to someone on the other end, confirming Mystique's involvement, then shut off the phone without any form of farewell. Must not have been to her father, Mac guessed. "She can replicate fingerprints too? DNA." At Ilehana's nod, Mac's brain began to question the validity of the evidence he had collected for so many years, that he and his team relied upon to get results, to solve cases and put away criminals... although most confessed in the end, had he genuinely put away some innocent people because of people like Mystique. Mac couldn't help it, he sat down heavily in Adam's chair.

"So... you're dealing better with this." She looked at him with raised eyebrows. The sarcasm wasn't lost on Mac despite his head feeling like it was about to explode. He swung the chair to face Ilehana. He asked her, without preamble, how many mutants there were like Mystique. "No two mutations are exactly the same, Mac. There are always subtle differences, however we have never discovered the existence of another mutant like Mystique."

"So that's good to know. Doesn't mean there isn't another out there though?"

"That much is true." Ilehana sounded pessimistic. Mac had to admire her confidence. "What else do you have?"

Mac pulled up Lindsay's files on the green goo that had been found at the crime scene. Together, they studied it, but it didn't take long for Ilehana to make her conclusions. Again, out came the I-phone and a short video showing Mac the profile and video of the abilities of the mutant named Toad. Not only could this mutant make super-human leaps – explaining the presence of the footprint Danny had found on the ceiling of Kelly's office, had a very long tongue but could make his phlegm toxic as well. Mac shuddered to think of it.

"Mystique has been known to work alone, but Toad's presence confirms that these two are working for Magneto." Ilehana reached around Mac to flick onto another profile. "Magneto controls metals, bends them to his will. He has, unfortunately, decided that humans will never accept mutant-kind, and with his delusions of grandeur proclaimed himself the leader of the Brotherhood of Mutants." She paused, looking at the profile over Mac's shoulder. When he glanced at her, her expression was as black as night and angry. "He's also my godfather."


	7. Chapter 7

Author's Note : I hate this scene. It was pretty much all listed dialogue (which has become my personal pet hate recently) when I first started, I have tried to break it up without much success. I don't think any of the characters are themselves, particularly Vixen but hey ho, I don't think I can improve on it any more so it's going up. And this is it for now, I have nothing more written, although I have the end scene set up in my head, so I will try and write the rest ASAP. Enjoy!

**Scene Seven**

"Really?" Mac looked at her sharply. The statement was said so calmly, without hint of any emotion that Mac thought for a moment that he had misheard.

"Yes. Years ago, my father and Eric Lensherr were great friends. As thanks for Eric's support throughout the emotional turmoil of the death of his wife, my mother, my father gave him the dubious honour of being my Godfather."

There was a moments silence between the two then, both considering the loss of a loved one; Mac's from the perspective of losing his wife, Ilehana's the loss of a mother. Though old wounds, her words stabbed each of them as deeply as if the wounds were fresh. It was Mac that recovered first, quietly pulling up the Autopsy footage that Sid and Hawkes had taken, allowing Ilehana another moment in reflection. When she glanced at him, coming out of her reverie with the softest sigh, he spoke again.

"Take a look at this. Tell me you've got something that could explain this and I'll buy you a steak dinner."

"Steak?" She smiled, although Mac could still sense the sadness that echoed through it. "Do you know how much steak a 500 pound tiger can eat, Mac?" They both laughed at her attempt at humour, but it died swiftly as Mac ran the footage. Ilehana watched the video through three times, before shaking her head. "You've got me there. I've never seen anything like it."

By mutual consent, the two of them headed down to the lab where Hawkes was working on analysing the water from the autopsy table. Mac introduced Ilehana to him, only stating that she was now working alongside them on the case. Hawkes, never questioning his boss or their guest, was quick enough to show them the chemical formula for the substance that Hawkes and Sid assumed would have been in the victim's blood stream. Ilehana stared at it for a few moments, only asking what concentration Hawkes estimated the substance had been when it was injected.

"I think it was diluted to 25% based on the vic's height and weight. There was nothing in the syringe to confirm against." Hawkes replied, impressed. She nodded, thanked Hawkes and then glanced meaningfully at Mac, who took her arm and steered her into the corridor towards his office.

"I've seen that chemical formula before." She admitted. "A couple of years ago a friend of the family tried to create a 'cure' of sorts for his mutation... His natural strength and the... peculiarity... of his feet made him wish for a more 'normal' appearance. Only when he tried it out on himself, it pushed his mutation into over drive. He's now blue and furry, and still has strange feet. I'm guessing Robert Kelly is what happens when you give the stuff to a human in enough quantity." She sighed. "I need to call my father."

"There's no doubt that it was Mystique and Toad who attacked Robert Kelly. The two of them together suggests they're working for Magneto. They've got Hank's 'cure', Dad. They injected so much into Kelly that he... changed into primordial soup." Ilehana wasn't sure how to phrase it, nothing did it justice. Her phone was sat on loudspeaker on Mac's desk, although silence followed her words. "Have you heard from Hank lately?"

"Not since last week. I'll have Storm call him. He was supposed to be attending a symposium on mutation this week using the image enhancer he created."

"Device that changes what the eye sees so people like Hank can go undetected amongst humans." Ilehana explained quickly. "It's a risk, Dad, if it gets damaged..."

"Hank knows what he's doing, Ilehana. Besides, you wanted to run some field tests..."

Ilehana acknowledged these words with a nod and a wry smile. She shook her head roughly as if to clear it and brought the subject back to its heart with an impatient growl. "None of this explains why they attacked Kelly." She frowned heavily as she thought it through. "What was the point? Why go out of their way to find, modify and inject him with the mutation enhancer, why not something simpler but just as lethal?"

"I think I can help there." Professor Xavier assured her. "I've been speaking to a friend of mine that works closely with the President himself. It turns out that Robert Kelly was working on a project below the general radar. He was lobbying for the registration and incarceration of all mutants, claiming we are a danger to the general public."

"Presumably because it was mutants that killed his son." Mac intervened before Ilehana could vent her anger verbally, and did he note a touch of despair? "You're thinking they didn't mean to kill Kelly? That they wanted to... make him a mutant?"

"That would be my interpretation, Detective Taylor. I think they underestimated the chemical's potency. I suspect the wanted to make Robert Kelly into something he despised."

"As punishment? Or do you think they were hoping that Kelly would suddenly see things from a mutant's perspective and start rallying for their cause? Either way it's insane!"

Ilehana had risen to walk by one of the windows. She stared out over the New York skyline, frustrated beyond words. She had accepted the role in her father's world many years ago, spent considerable time away from her family home watching mutants that worked for Magneto, had fought alongside other mutants in her father's team to prevent the Brotherhood of Mutants from starting their war. Ilehana stood to inherit not only her father's fortune and the mansion that was home to countless mutants who had learned – as she had – that their mutations were gifts, not curses, but also the legacy of the X-Men. But the one thing she had never been able to understand was _why_ Magneto and his cronies insisted on causing trouble and trying to start a war. She closed her eyes, fought to get her emotions under control and re-opened them with a sigh.

"This is why we choose not to reveal ourselves to humans unless we have to. In most cases, they freak out. Although, you're doing better with this all the time." This time the statement was made with a twinge of humour.

"I keep thinking I'll wake up at any moment." Mac responded wryly.

"No such luck." Was the dry response. "Do you think they'll try this again, Dad?"

"There are other targets rallying for Kelly's cause." Professor Xavier admitted somewhat reluctantly. "It is fair to say that they are likely to hit them next."

"Who?" Mac asked quickly, grabbing a pen out of the drawer on his desk.

"You can't protect them, Mac. That's our job." Ilehana turned to face him. "Your men and their weapons are all but useless against our kind. Let us handle it."

Mac scowled as he tried to understand what she was suggesting. He, too, was wrangling with the idea of these mutants starting a war. It seemed to him as if the X-Men, as they called themselves were little better than vigilante warriors fighting for their own cause. And now they were planning on using his team and resources to track down the people – mutants, whoever – responsible for the murder of Senator Robert Kelly, so they could carry out their own vigilante justice right under his nose?

"Don't look on it as vigilante justice, Mac." Ilehana sighed, though he could hear her resentment in the hint of a growl that edged her words. "Consider it... playing to our strengths. We aren't interested in justice, per se, we're interested in preventing the loss of any more lives. If I thought we could hold them, I would gladly bring Magneto, Mystique and the rest in for you to incarcerate, but a prison that could hold these people has yet to be built."

"Nevertheless, I cannot condone what it is you want to do here." Mac wasn't comforted by her words.

"Then don't condone it, Detective." Ilehana spat his title as if it left a bad taste in her mouth, her blue-grey eyes flashing with sudden anger. "If you and your people meet Magneto's men, you will die. Simple as. He and his followers will crush you with as much compassion as if you were cockroaches. However, if you wish to pursue your own _justice_ then so be it. I will not be held accountable for you or the lives you will lose."

Silence followed this outburst that escaped Ilehana's normally tight controls. She glared straight into Mac's eyes, her own blue-grey ones flashing sapphire with her wrath. He looked away, couldn't stomach the intensity of that angry gaze, didn't know what to say or think, unsure whether either was safe. She turned away, arms crossing tightly across her chest, and Mac sensed that he had truly offended her.

"Not for nothing do they call my daughter the Vixen." Professor Xavier murmured apologetically through the phone. He knew, through the access to his daughters mind, that she was willing to walk away, wipe Mac's mind and look elsewhere for help. So stubborn, his daughter. "However, Detective, she has a valid point. Your guns and weapons will be useless against Magneto's power. We are grateful for your help, but the time has come for my team to take action. If you can provide any assistance in locating Magneto's team, I – that is we – would be forever in your debt."

A moment's pause followed whilst Mac considered the words of both Xavier's. He had to admit that while he had little choice in accepting their words as truth, a part of him would miss the hunt and the catch of the criminals on this case. He was so used to being a part of the team who brought a killer to justice. If he agreed to this, he would miss out on that part of the job. Whatever he said next would give them their answer, so it was with a heavy heart that he suggested "We could try tracking their cell phones, if they have them."

"My daughter can provide you with the details." Professor X responded gratefully, giving his daughter a mental nudge. Still angry, she hung up the phone and found the necessary information.


	8. Chapter 8

Author's Note : Short but effective. Enjoy! Very very minor alteration (one word!) to this chapter in order to make true a setence I'm using later...

**Scene Eight**

Mac was with Adam, working on the locations of several cell phones that the X-Men knew to have belonged to carious members of the Brotherhood of Mutants, but his mind wasn't really on the job. He was, in fact, considering the awkwardness of working with telepaths. It was his own thoughts running away with him that had caused the argument with Vixen... the name definitely suited her. She could definitely be a spitfire... Mac wrenched his thoughts away from that for fear she might still be listening in. Having given her permission to run over his current thoughts – she had promised not to delve into his memories, which Mac had appreciated but not quite trusted at the time – had definitely been a mistake on his part, although he knew that there was nothing he could do to stop her. The worst thing, he decided, was thinking about the awkwardness of working with telepaths as if it was completely normal...

The object of Mac's thoughts was on her cell down the corridor. She was smiling, almost coyly, murmuring words that he couldn't hear, but from the look on her face, he could guess that she was warning someone close – very close – to her to be careful. Mac felt a flare of jealousy that surprised him.

"Boss?" Adam's voice brought Mac back to the job at hand. He knew that Adam would barely have noticed his lack of input, in fact the young CSI usually preferred Mac to be hands off when he was working his computers.

"Yeah."

"Four of the nine cell phones are inactive, I can't activate them remotely. Four of the other five are located in this district. The fifth is heading in that direction at walking pace. I reckon it's about 30 minutes distance."

"Thanks Adam." Mac headed out of the AV lab to beckon to Ilehana. She spoke a few more words into the phone, ended the call and slipped the phone into her pocket. She squared her shoulders, as if preparing for a fight and headed towards him. He offered her the chance to precede him back into the AV lab, which she did with a little grace.

Adam, trying not to notice the tension between the beautiful woman and his boss, gave her the GPS co-ordinates and showed her the area on the big screen. He watched her as she approached it, nodding appreciatively. She murmured something along the lines of it being "far enough from human habitation" and "easily defendable". Adam shot a glance over at his boss, who was also watching their guest with a strange but unreadable expression on his face.

"Time to go." Ilehana sent Adam a suggestion, and the CSI suddenly found it necessary to be elsewhere. "Thank you, Detective. We appreciate the help."

"Sure." Mac wasn't sure what else to say. "You'll let me know how this goes down?"

"My father will let you know, I'm sure."

Mac bit his tongue and stopped himself asking her to be the one to tell him. What was it with this woman? She gave him a look that was as unreadable as his own had been to Adam, only her eyes were suddenly flaring with what Mac could only describe as bloodlust. She smiled at that, a predatory smile that only agreed with the thought.

_I'm a predator, Mac, hunting's what I do best._

"Be careful, Ilehana."

_I will._ The words were somewhere between a growl and a purr as she passed by him and left the CSI building. Mac watched her leave the labs by the elevator and made a sudden decision. He strode down the corridor, a purposefulness to his walk that sent his lab technicians scurrying out of his path. Mac pulled his cell from his pocket and dialled Adam.

"Adam, get your ass back to the AV lab, I need your help with something."


	9. Chapter 9

Author's Note: I enjoyed writing this chapter, although it was far too tempting to complicate it with details about Ilehana that really aren't relevant to this story. Nice to see some of the other X-Men involved .

Also, think I've sorted the "which X-Men shall I use?" conundrum so I can post again. Yay!

**Scene Nine**

The briefing room in the hidden lower levels of Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters was awash with anticipation, only awaiting the arrival of Vixen. Cyclops, aka Scott Summers, was sat at Charles Xavier's left hand, his red coloured shades sat firmly on the bridge of his nose as he regarded the rest of the team around the table. At his right hand side was Jean Grey a telekinetic telepath, and also his beautiful fiancée. On the other side of her was Storm, an African woman with snow white hair and the ability to control the weather. Her cold, grey eyes were fixed on what could have been a friendly argument between Logan – surname unknown but frequently went by Wolverine – and Cyclops. They were discussing basketball, a subject Storm normally had no patience for but seeing Scott so wound up and Wolverine winding him up was as awkwardly amusing as ever. At the head of the table, between Cyclops and the spot reserved for his daughter was Charles Xavier himself, watching over his team with his fingers joined at the tips and elbows resting on the arms of his wheelchair. His reaction, a mere lifting of the head to look towards the doorway, was the first indication that their last team member was about to enter the room.

A few seconds later, the circular door to the briefing room slid aside, and the tall, lithe blonde woman entered the room. Silence fell throughout the room and all heads turned to watch her approach the table. She did not falter under their gaze; she crossed the room in confident strides, dropped a hand onto Wolverine's shoulder as she walked past him to take her seat. He grinned at her; and she returned it with a genuine smile.

"This is where they're hiding. The NYPD gave us the location and it has been confirmed by Jean and Scott." She flicked a remote that her father handed her, giving Scott a nod of credit as the display brought up an area. "We have reason to believe they are holding Beast, making Hank work on what was supposed to be his cure. No one knows what they're planning on making with it, but the test-run they dealt on Robert Kelly shows the danger we are all in, mutants and humans alike."

Professor Xavier was interested in seeing if any of the team was uncomfortable with Ilehana taking charge of the mission ahead of them. It was normal for Cyclops to lead the team. Ilehana was more used to working as a field agent, her predatory nature making it difficult for her to exist alongside some of the children that lived at the school, as well as personal rivals. Jean, for example, who shifted uncomfortably in her seat and looked to Scott for some sign that he was comfortable with this sudden change in power. Cyclops himself, as well as Storm, had worked alongside Vixen as equals on numerous occasions in the past when the X-Men were just up and running. Neither offered anything, just watched and waited as Vixen delivered the information pertinent to the mission. Wolverine, Vixen's on-off lover and staunchest supporter, just rubbed his knuckles in anticipation of a fight. Xavier, only half listening to his daughter, watched all this without thought or comment.

"Any questions?" Vixen made deliberate eye contact with each and every member of the X-Men around the table. Each team member shook their head with varying degrees of confidence. Vixen nodded, as much to herself as to them. "Okay, we'll convene in the hanger in 30 minutes. Go."

There was a general scramble as the X-Men set off to their assignments. Wolverine paused to see in Vixen would be following him, he didn't need a verbal answer, nor even a nod or shake of the head. A glance was enough. He left the room without a backward look. The two Xavier's watched him depart in silence.

"You have some regrets, Ilehana?" The father broke the silence between the two, choosing to speak aloud and forcing her to speak her own thoughts aloud.

"Regrets?" She looked down at the table, tapping the fingers of one hand on its surface. "No. I may have, though, when this is over."

"You think the human race is ready to accept the truth?"

"The human race? No. Detective Taylor was beginning to accept, the rest may not be so open minded."

"We have to do this..."

"To protect them. I know."

Vixen had to admit the curse of trying to make herself understood. Had her father deliberately misinterpreted what she was trying to say? Possibly. She was thinking not of the coming battle but of the job that had to be done afterward, but for now she would roll with this line of conversation and deal with tomorrow's issues tomorrow. She smiled a touched ruefully and rose to join her comrades in the hangar.

"I'll monitor you as long as I can."

"I'll try and maintain the link when you get tired."

"Don't tire yourself unnecessarily," her father, unwilling to accept that his daughter was the stronger telepath for reasons that were best kept between them, was concerned for her safety, "you'll need your strength in the battle."

"I won't put myself or the team at risk."

"I know." Xavier rolled his chair to be sat in front of his daughter. He took her hand, a gesture he did before every mission, every battle. He squeezed her fingers gently and almost whispered the words he always spoke. "Come home safe, my daughter."

Ilehana smiled reassuringly, knowing the thoughts that were running through her father's mind without having to read them. Too many times in her life, she had left her father fearing for her life after tragically losing her mother at such a young age. She knew that it was so much harder for him sending his children – his foster children as well as his biological daughter - off to fight his battles than it was for her to go. She enjoyed the hunt, if not so much the kill. She felt little fear in this moment before the hunt; more pressing was the desire to flex her claws and muscles in preparation for the coming battle.

Ilehana bent and kissed her father on the cheek and murmured the words "I will" in his ear as she always did, knowing that the odds were that one day those words would be a lie. She smiled to herself. Today was not that day.


	10. Chapter 10

**Scene Ten**

Cyclops still had the hood of Vixen's jeep up when she entered the hanger. The vehicles they were intending to use to get the team to their destination were sat in the shadow of the Blackbird – the jet aircraft used to transport the team over greater distances. Vixen's jeep was more practical than Scott's sports cars, given that they did not know if Magneto and his crew had Beast, or what condition he was in. Beside the jeep were Wolverine's and Vixen's motorbikes – both black, Logan's displaying a silver X on either side that looked as if it had been scratched by claws, Ilehana's displaying a silver, snarling wolf's head with a black X through a red circle for the pupil's of the eyes, a detail so tiny it would be missed if you weren't looking for it. Vixen scowled at Cyclops messing with the engine of her jeep, it was something she preferred to do herself.

Sensing her gaze on the back of his neck, Cyclops decided that everything was in order and climbed behind the wheel of the jeep with an embarrassed grin. Storm had been relegated to the back seat of the jeep; Jean was in the passenger seat. Logan was smiling at Cyclops' reaction to Vixen's angry glare, lounging easily against his bike. He gave her a less than subtle wink as she looked over her team, satisfied that they were ready.

Vixen mounted her bike gracefully, like Logan she was helmetless, flicked the key in the ignition and revved the engine a little as she settled herself. Ilehana pulled the bike onto a large rectangle set into the floor. Wolverine drew his bike up beside hers, Cyclops drawing the jeep up to the rear. The floor moved upward as the ceiling drew apart, the three vehicles ending up in the large garage in front of the mansion's many cars. The team pulled out onto the driveway, the motorcycles pulling ahead of the jeep even in that distance, and were on the road in a matter of moments.

Mac pulled out after the X-Men, his curiosity having got the better of him. He wanted to see exactly what this team of mutants was capable of, despite what he might think of their ideals and methods. His concern for the fiery blonde who had been company for him over the last few hours was lessening as he saw the team she was with. Mac stayed a good distance behind them, tracking Vixen by her cell on the app Adam had installed on his own cell. He didn't want her to think he was following her...

Vixen, with her predatory hearing, was well aware of the Avalanche trailing her team. A brushing of the driver's thoughts was all it took to realise that it was Detective Taylor. She felt a surge of both annoyance and affection, it was sickeningly sweet of him to think that she needed protecting, and yet it was another thing altogether to have to protect him from their enemies. A questioning glance from Wolverine as they rode side by side was enough to make her aware that he had heard the engine too, though the feral mutant was probably unaware of who it was.

_He's a friend._ She sighed through her thoughts to Wolverine. _Let him see what it is we do today._

_A friend?_ Logan questioned as mildly as he could.

_Yes, Logan, a friend. Have I ever betrayed you before?_

_Never._ The word was admitted grudgingly, Wolverine's jealousy of any male who so much as looked at Vixen was notorious amongst the X-Men. It amused Vixen highly, but did not stop a similar flare up of emotion when someone tried to chat up her man.

_Witness if you must._ The thought was sent to Mac, gently enough that she would shock him as little as possible given that he was driving. _But stay well clear, I cannot watch out for you the whole time._

_I can take care of myself. _Mac sent the thought back to her, or at least he tried, as he pulled out the cross around his neck and kissed it with a reverence that so many people misunderstood. The dot on his cell's screen that was Ilehana pulled further away from his location as she sped up. If she had received his thought, she gave no response.


	11. Chapter 11

Author's Note: 'Bout time Beast got a look in...

**Scene Eleven**

Beast was having difficulty staying alert. At that moment, Hank McCoy was hanging by his wrists, his blue fur lank with grease and matted with both sweat and blood. His glasses, one lens smashed and the arm bent, were on the floor at his feet. Forced to work for days on the chemical that he had originally designed as a cure, allowed to rest for only an hour or two at a time, eating food not fit for rats, Beast was cold, exhausted and disheartened. He had witnessed things no man or mutant should ever have to witness, Mystique's idea to ensure he did what they wanted, humans suffering and dying because he could not perfect the chemical formula that forced the human genome to become mutant. Robert Kelly had not been the first to die.

After seven failures, the eighth experiment had looked as though the mutation accelerator would work; injected into a sedated patient, she had taken on a mutation that suggested she would become a telekinetic. When she changed, but did not die, Mystique and her boss Magneto had come up with the plan to mutate Senator Kelly. But by the time Mystique had injected Kelly, the sedated patient had died. The rational part of Beast's mind put it down to the difference in heart rate. The sedated girl, with her slower heart rate, had pumped the venom around her body slower that Robert Kelly's had. And so she had died slower. Beast hoped that it had been less painful for her than for the others he had seen. But however much he hoped, some part of him knew it was not true.

"Have you made progress today?" Vixen asked Beast quietly. She moved so quietly, not even Beast's sharp hearing had caught her entrance. He looked up with an undeniable flare of hope, which irrationally ignored the question and heard only what he wanted to hear – the voice of a friend. His head snapped up, and he was looking upon his friend, colleague and goddaughter. He smiled widely, testing the strength of the shackles that held with sudden and renewed vigour... the hope died as suddenly as it built as he saw Mystique's yellow eyes burning in Vixen's skull. He turned his head away without answering.

Mystique melted into her blue form, scales and red hair shining, yellow eyes burning. She studied Beast with narrowed eyes, watching the hope die within his eyes as he recognised her. He was so miserable... she smiled a little at that. Mystique wanted more from this experiment than her master. Magneto wanted to rule over humans, to make them suffer for their arrogance in the belief that anything different to them was substandard and wrong. Mystique wanted more, she wanted Beast to suffer for daring to believe that he could take away the gift that all mutants were given; that the gifts they had been given were wrong in some way. Mystique, like Magneto in this much, wanted there to be a day when she could walk down the street in her true form and not be attacked or stared at.

"Have you?" She asked again, stepping around so that she was in Beast's line of view. "Made progress?"

"Some." The word was hoarse.

"We will do another test tomorrow. Toad and Sabretooth are bringing us another subject."

"No." Beast croaked the word in protest. "No more."

"You would rather test it on yourself?"

Beast looked up and murmured the words "By medicine life may be prolong'd, yet Death will seize the Doctor too" quoting Shakespeare's Cymbeline. Mystique frowned at his stubbornness. She smiled cruelly at his fear and laughed that without him the mission was useless and so the tests must continue. She encouraged him forcefully that the only way to save lives was to perfect the formula.

"Mystique!" Magneto's voice, deep and commanding, blazed from an intercom. "Get up here!"

Beast and Mystique looked up towards the speaker. Both frowned at the same time, things had been quiet in the evenings, Magneto's command could only mean trouble. Slowly, hearing the faint grumble of engines he knew too well, Beast smiled. And it was that look that made Mystique turn on her heel and march from the room that was Beast's cell.


	12. Chapter 12

Author's Note: Fight scene coming up. I apologise in advance :P

**Scene Twelve**

When Mac pulled up the Avalanche next to the X-Men's Jeep and bikes, they were deserted. Stood in the shadow of an old factory; the setting was cold and aloof to what was about to go down here. Forethought and years of military and police training meant that he was already dressed in his body armour, his silver cross crushed between it and his chest. As he climbed out of the car, Mac checked his weapon, and the spare that he had strapped to his ankle. He pushed the door closed quietly; then moved in the shadow of the X-Men themselves. He pressed his back against the wall next to the entrance to the warehouse, his Glock raised and ready. He could hear the sounds of battle inside the warehouse, grunts and cries and the sudden crashing of barrels and other equipment. Mac gritted his teeth and peered inside.

Fires were burning throughout the space, flames licking at the floors and walls. Smoke hung about the room in a thick cloud. As he watched, a gentle wind, not much more that a summer's breeze, drifted through the warehouse and Mac was shocked to see Storm revealed – Mac learnt their names and abilities much later – floating above the battles going on below. Storm's arms were raised, her white hair being ruffled by the breeze she was creating, her eyes rolled back in her skull as rains began to control the fires as Wolverine barrelled unintentionally into the disgruntled, blonde and greasy haired teenager known as Pyro who had been creating the fires.

Wolverine, having knocked Pyro to the floor hard enough for the young mutant to hit his head and spread-eagle on his back, shook his head to clear it and threw himself back into a personal battle with his arch-nemesis. Both beasts of men, Wolverine was shorter, squatter and with three metal claws reflecting the dull lighting, the other taller and broad, with longer hair and snarling his aggression for all he was worth. As Mac watched, the mutant known as Sabretooth stabbed Wolverine in the chest with one hand and the second swept round to catch him in the neck. Wolverine roared his discontent, staggering backwards and away from Sabretooth, leaving a trailed of blood between the two. Just when Mac thought that fight was over, Wolverine's wounds healed before his eyes and the X-Man leapt for his nemesis again. The two of them rolled away, growling and roaring at each other.

Cyclops, his hand fixed against the trigger on his red-tinted lens, was firing short laser bursts around the upper walls, chasing Toad; who was leaping from point to point and spitting toxic venom at Jean, who was flicking the globs away with her telekinesis and trying to help Storm contain the fires at the same time.

Mac frowned... in all the chaos, he couldn't see Ilehana anywhere. Where was she? He knew that she was concerned about him staying clear of this fight, and the longer Mac watched, the more he understood why. Because suddenly, Wolverine was pinned to nothing, arms and legs splayed and the feral mutant was drawn towards Magneto – it could only be Magneto, dressed in maroon red with a helmet sitting royally upon his head...

"We meet again, Wolverine." Magneto intoned, smiling evilly at the feral mutant, his voice deep and resonant.

Mac had snuck around the edge of the room, his eyes always on the fight but trying to get to the corridor without being noticed. It was hard for the Detective to ignore someone in peril, but as a red laser beam startled Magneto as it shot past him, narrowly missing him, Wolverine managed to move a couple of inches. Sidling through the doorway, Mac was starting to understand that Vixen had been right on two accounts – that Magneto and his men were dangerous; too dangerous for normal humans to handle – his weapons, silver cross, zips... so many things would be turned into lethal weapons - and also that the X-Men could handle themselves. He found himself wishing that he too had a special power, a gift; something that could make him stronger than he was at that moment.

Mac moved through what must have been the administration area of the warehouse slowly and with caution. It seemed deserted. He could hear nothing of the main battle now, with the exception of the occasional faint cry. After stopping to check it's safety, Mac turned a corner and came face-to-face with Vixen.

"You!" She cried, surprised. "What do you think you're doing!"

"I..."

"You shouldn't be here!"She grabbed his arm, gripping hard enough to hurt, dragging him further down the corridor. She opened a door with a key and pushed him inside. Mac staggered under the force, then made to turn back to argue with Vixen, confused. He staggered again, clutching his ears uselessly as a mind voice boomed inside his skull.

_Mystique!_ A giant white Bengal Tiger shunted into Vixen, knocking her to the ground. A swipe of a huge paw left her unconscious, at which point Mystique lost her Vixen facade and became her normal, blue-skinned self. The Tiger snorted in disgust and the turned her glare on Mac.

Mac shuddered beneath her gaze, sensing her anger without the need of her telepathy. Then, suddenly, it was gone. She came forward, her movement's eerily silent for such a large creature, and she butted him gently with her massive head. _You're a fool. _She laughed, Mac could hear it in her mind voice, and see it in the way she hung her pink tongue out as she looked at him. _But an honourable fool._

"Thanks." Mac rested a hand on her head for a brief moment, feeling the short, coarse fur beneath his fingers.

_Let's go find my friend._ Vixen suggested, shaking herself lightly and stepping out of the room and over Mystique's prone body. Mac followed, feeling a stab of pity for the woman at his feet. He paused, and bent to remove the bunch of keys she had used to open the door. Vixen paused and looked back at the jangling keys. She nodded her approval. _Good thinking. Let's go._


	13. Chapter 13

**Scene Thirteen**

Vixen used her predatory nose and hearing to find Beast without too much effort. She and Mac entered the storeroom that was Hank McCoy's cell to see him all but hanging by his shackles. Nevertheless, the blue furry mutant smiled at his rescuers, knowing the white tiger without introduction. Mac was fast enough to find the key to the restraints on the bunch he had taken and free Beast.

_Beast, meet Mac Taylor. Mac, this is Hank McCoy, aka Beast._

"Pleasure." Mac grunted as he freed Hank's other wrist so that he was completely free. Beast massaged his wrists, and then stretched out his back.

"Oh my, that feels good." He turned to Vixen in distress. "We have to destroy everything they have here before we leave. They know too much..."

_Easy, my friend, we will deal with it all. Can you help?_

"As Shakespeare said in Julius Caesar "Cry "Havoc!" and let slip the dogs of war..."" Beast smiled "or as they say today, "lemme at it!"

Vixen laughed at her friend's manner, even as they were both shocked to hear Mac mutter "Act three, scene one." She turned on her heel and exited the room again, letting Beast slip past her to lead the way. Mac kept his position at the rear of the group, glancing back behind them every so often. They walked for a couple of minutes, Beast leading them unerringly toward the lab where he had been working.

Both Vixen and Mac were impressed by the equipment that Beast had had on hand to use in the creation of the mutation enhancer that Magneto and his team wanted. Both regretted but understood the need to destroy it. Before they did so, Beast checked that all his notes were present. "Of course," he admitted dully, "I can't advise you as to whether they have copies of them. If I was holding me, I'd have duplicated everything."

_We'll never be sure of that, Hank. But reason says they'll never understand your scrawl._ Vixen almost giggled her agreement. _So, fire? Chemical explosion?_

"Both." Mac smiled, catching Beast's eye and the two of them went to work, Vixen keeping an eye and an ear out for trouble. Mac put his years of Marine training and chemistry lessons to work, building a small but powerful incendiary device, Beast setting tinder ready to blow the whole lot. He used his notes to do so.

Mac and Beast retreated to the door and stood admiring their work. Out in the corridor, Vixen tensed, her nose going up and inhaling deeply. She had no time to warn her comrades as she was thrown down the corridor by a snarling Sabretooth The feral mutant dug his claws into her side with a vengeance, he owed her these blows for battles past, and just as he pulled his claws out to stab them in again, three shots rang out in quick succession. The bullets from Mac's gun struck Sabretooth in the back of the head, the shoulder and the nape of his neck. He fell forward onto Vixen's tiger body, causing her to yelp in pain. Beast and Mac hurried to pull Sabretooth off Vixen, who had unintentionally morphed back into her human state. She was as pale as a ghost, her hands clutching her side. She looked up at Mac, and tried to move.

"He'll heal, and quickly." She nodded at the beast-like man at her side. "We need to get out of here!"

"He'll recover?" Mac blanched, remembering Wolverine doing the same.

"Yes." Beast scooped Vixen up into his arms.

"No, Hank, you'll need to set the fire. Mac?"

Mac ducked under Ilehana's outstretched arm, taking most of her weight and dragging her away from the lab. As they drew closer to the main battle area, Mac and Vixen could hear it still going on behind the doors; although to Mac it sounded tamer that before. Beast waited until they were closing in on the warehouse space, keeping a watchful eye on the prone Sabretooth. When Vixen gave him the telepathic nod, Beast set the fire and bounded down the corridor on all fours. All three both felt and heard the lab go up in flames, the vibrations running through the walls, ceiling and floor. Whether it was deafness from the explosion, or their own shock at the sound, all the sounds of the battle in the open space next door stopped.

Vixen listened to the thoughts of those next door to us, and as Wolverine felt her presence brush her mind, he gave her a blow by blow account of what had happened since she had left. After Magneto had pinned him, Cyclops had _finally_ got a hit square on Magneto, the Master of Magnetism knocked off his feet by the blow – "huh, about time Bub." Wolverine had commented grumpily. Sabretooth had disappeared, Toad had hit Storm with a glob of toxic venom, she'd had to suffer Cyclops burning the stuff from her skin; she was in pain but still on her feet. Toad had scarpered in the chaos that followed; Wolverine couldn't understand why the little runt hadn't hopped away sooner. Pyro had come to and tried to cause more trouble, but Jean had him pinned with her telekinesis. No sign of Mystique, but they were thinking of going after Toad...

_Slow down, Logan. _Vixen begged wearily. She was losing blood and Logan's run down was making her dizzy. _Forget Toad, he's a pest, nothing more. Let's go._

_Where are you? _Years of communicating telepathically with both Ilehana and Charles Xavier had made Logan proficient in using their links to ask his own questions.

"Right here." Vixen pushed the door open. She glanced at Pyro, arms rigid at his side and eyes wide, and then pointedly looked away. The boy had run from the relative safety of the X-Men to join Magneto's cronies a few months ago. That betrayal still angered Vixen, and she would not waste her breath on the creature he had become. A glance at Jean made the telekinetic force Pyro into sleep.

Wolverine frowned at another man having his arm around his woman, then realised how Vixen was holding herself. He ran up to her, face full of worries, all but shoving Mac out of the way. Vixen looked like hell, she was pale and her eyes were glazed with pain.

"I look that good, huh?" She gave Wolverine a lop-sided grin. "And don't be rude to Mac, he saved my life."

"Oh." Wolverine gave the human the once over before ignoring him again. Mac frowned, but shrugged to himself. He didn't need this stranger's approval.

"I may not have your gift for healing Logan, but I'm not dead yet. We're done here, let's go home."

Mac watched as Wolverine lifted Vixen into his arms, despite her protests. He led the team out of the warehouse. The rest of the team trailed after him. Mac stood for a moment, looking at the devastation the mutants had wrought and feeling grateful that the chaos had been contained within one warehouse. But for how long? Mac knew that Magneto and Mystique's team had been put down for now, but they were all still alive and free. He was used to his jobs ending in one of two ways; either the perp was caught, the evidence usually damning them before they could damn themselves, or – and Mac always ended up regretting these moments – the perp died at their own hand or at Mac's. It didn't feel right leaving it like this, leaving these mutants free to attack again.

_We'll be there to stop them, Mac. Wherever they go, whatever they do, we are the guardians of the human and mutant races._

_You're right. _Mac thought back to her. _Of course you are. I didn't understand before, I'm still not sure I understand completely, but I'm starting to._

_Good. Now, are you coming? _She showed him a picture of home; of Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, suggested a tour and a chance to meet some more of her team-mates. Mac smiled at the thought and nodded to himself.

He turned to leave the warehouse, and found himself face to face with himself.


	14. Chapter 14

Author's Note: It's been really hard to write the last few chapters of this story; you may have noticed that I copped out with the majority of the battle scenes... I'm really bad at writing battle scenes and they are what always stump me. So I'm glad it's almost done

**Scene Fourteen**

If she hadn't been in contact with him, Vixen might have missed the horror that ran through Mac's mind. He knew that he was facing Mystique, but part of him couldn't quite believe it. He backed away from her... himself... slowly, but she... he... followed him. Mac confusion was spilling over so much that Vixen wasn't sure who was who. She struggled to get out of Wolverine's arms, he wanted to keep her close even as she tried to explain and in the end he dropped her as she started to morph in his arms. She landed on wolf paws, choosing the form most natural to her to pack the process more simple. The white wolf, with blonde highlights dotted across her chest and muzzle growled at Logan as he tried to get in the way.

"You're hurt!"

_She'll kill him._ Vixen snapped, darting around Wolverine and dashing inside, her voice echoing in Wolverine's mind. _It's my fault he's here, he saved my life, I owe him!_

"Which means we all owe him." Wolverine growled at the rest of the team. "Storm, Jean, Beast stay out here, let's go Cyc." He knew that Storm was still hurting, and Jean was the best person to treat her, and Beast wasn't in great shape. Cyclops followed Wolverine and their leader back inside, the building.

The white wolf that was Vixen was stood staring at two Mac's, one stood over the other bearing his Glock, the second shuffling backwards. She seemed confused as she looked from one to the other. The first Mac glanced nervously in her direction. "I've got her covered Vixen, don't worry."

_I'm not worried Mac. _She sent the thought into the room in general, picking no-one out individually. _Its fine; you can lower the weapon Mac. She can't hurt you, we've got her covered._

Vixen glanced at the Mac on the floor, and let her muzzle twist into a snarl. His blue eyes glazed with fear, the skin of his face paled. He started to stutter something, but the Mac holding the gun twitched it and growled at him to be quiet. The second Mac fell silent immediately. Vixen raised her muzzle. _Lower the gun, Mac. _She intoned softly. _Please, trust me, lower the gun._ She sent a couple of instructions to Wolverine and Cyclops privately, then bunched herself and pounced.

She landed between the two Mac's, snarling into the barrel of the gun that was now pointed at her. A second later, Cyclops let loose a laser beam that flicked the gun from Mac's hands. The Glock went off as Wolverine launched himself at Mystique-Mac, his whole body pinning her to the floor. Mac – the real Mac – cried out inadvertently as the bullet grazed his arm. Cyclops went to him, as Vixen took hold of Mystique telepathically, forcing her to reassume her own skin. Mystique's yellow eyes burned angrily as Vixen forced her to attend to her fallen team-mates.

Cyclops tore the sleeve away from Mac's injured arm, bunched it into a pad and pressed it against the graze in Mac's arm. The CSI winced, but accepted Cyclops' hand up. Vixen glanced at Mac as he stood, sent him a telepathic query. Mac smiled and nodded, indicating that he would be alright. He was more concerned about her. She winced in appreciation having half-forgotten about her own injuries, and jerked her head towards the door. The team left the warehouse, Vixen's telepathic suggestion strong enough to leave Mystique tending to Magneto, Pyro and eventually Sabretooth.

Cyclops and Wolverine rode the bikes home, Jean drove Mac's Avalanche and Beast drove the Jeep with Storm in the passenger seat. There was a minor scuffle when Wolverine insisted on riding with Vixen. In the end, she tiredly ordered him to ride his own bike back to the mansion as she jumped into the back of the jeep and curled up nose-to-tail. Jean sneakily lifted Mac's keys from his pocket using her telepathy and set off in his Avalanche before he knew what was happening. He shrugged to himself; he was in too much pain and too late to argue. He climbed into the seat next to Vixen, causing Wolverine to scowl and ride off on his bike. Vixen sighed, used to Wolverine's jealous behaviour as Cyclops trailed after him. They were on their way back as Mac asked a question that had been burning since the moment that Vixen had leapt in to defend him.

"How did you know it was me? Or her?" He was still somewhat confused.

_Two things._ _He – she - didn't smell quite like you, but what clinched it... _Vixen didn't move her head. She sounded exhausted, but there was a fondness to her tone that surprised him. _You've always called me Ilehana. She called me Vixen._


	15. Chapter 15  Epilogue

Author's Note: This is it, those of you who have followed this can breathe a sigh of relief, it's all over! This has been far more complicated to write than I anticipated, but I'm looking forward to writing more for Mac and Ilehana, though whether together or separately, I haven't quite decided.

**Scene Fifteen - Epilogue**

Vixen slipped the DVD that Beast had given her into the drive of Mac's computer and let the program run. Mac looked on, concerned for the data in his labs' systems, despite Beast's assurances that it would only delete and replace data concerned with Robert Kelly's death. Ilehana and her father had already gone to work on everyone involved with the case, altering memories so that the case went from being bizarre and inexplicable to being relatively bog-standard and boring. All the mutant-related physical evidence and notes had been acquired by Ilehana and Mac, and subsequently destroyed by Cyclops and his power. The program whirred its way to a hundred percent completion and the DVD popped out. Ilehana placed the disc into its case and slipped the case into the back pocket of her jeans.

They had spent a little time together at the mansion; Mac getting his tour of some of the X-Men's facilities after Jean had patched him up and bandaged his arm. Cyclops had given him a t-shirt to wear, and Mac was secretly disappointed that there was no sign of the X-Men's symbol, the black cross on a circular red background. He had been awed just by the collection of cars and motorcycles in the garage, the size of the grounds and the sports facilities available to all the youngsters and the mansion itself, let alone by the infirmary, the labs and the hangar hidden beneath the school. Ilehana had dropped a few hints that there was more to the lower levels, but Mac hadn't pressed when she hadn't taken him further into her confidence.

Now that it was all gone, all the evidence and his colleagues knowledge of the case, Mac was a little hurt. He understood the need for removing all the evidence and so on pertaining to the case, and the necessity of removing all knowledge of the mutant kind. He even liked the fact that he was one of a select few that knew about it. It made him part of an elite, something that the Marine in him was absurdly proud of. Not that she had ever been anything more than civil to him in reality, but Mac sensed Ilehana pulling away, distancing herself. She'd been so quiet these last couple of hours, and they both knew that their time together was coming to an end. Would he be able to contact her if – and if they were as common as he was led to believe, when - he came across mutants again? He was somehow too shy to simply as her for her number. He needn't have worried.

Ilehana walked round the desk to stand opposite him. Everything he had been thinking had flashed across Mac's face; she didn't need her telepathy to see his hurt. The distance she had begun to place between them was more for her benefit than his, although it wouldn't do him any harm. So many times it had come to this; this parting of ways, but it was for his safety as well as theirs. Mac already knew too much, and there was the potential that the fool had made himself a permanent enemy – probably more so in Mystique than anyone else in the Brotherhood. The X-Men would watch over him. But that knowledge didn't make this moment any easier.

Ilehana touched Mac's hurt arm in her first true gesture of affection towards him. She smiled, still that shadowed, hollow smile but one nonetheless. Mac returned both gestures, his smile sad because he knew he had enjoyed and would miss her company.

"If you ever need anything..." He began, faltering slightly.

"I'll call." She cut him off quietly. She supposed she could have given it, after all what could it hurt? But something in her refused. "Don't worry, Mac, if you need me, I'll call you too."

Mac grinned at her despite himself, pleased by her comment. She gave him another half-smile, a gentle squeeze of the elbow and he followed her out of his office to watch as she walked down the corridor; he was somehow relieved that she hadn't actually said goodbye. She called the elevator, and when it arrived, she stepped inside. It was only then that she turned back to face him and raised a hand in a farewell gesture. She smiled as he waved back; even from that distance Mac saw the regret on her face. He watched the doors close, just catching sight if her raising her right hand to her temple and close her eyes, head bowed.

Vixen left the Crime Lab with a heavy heart. Wolverine drove up out front as she exited the building, his timing perfect, and she climbed into the Jeep. Neither of them said a word, and though Wolverine sent her many a sideways glance, Vixen returned none of them. She hated herself more in that moment than ever before. Nothing that anyone said would ever change that.

"Hey, Mac?" Danny asked some time later when he came across his boss in the locker room at the end of their shift.

"Yeah?"

"What happened to your arm?"

"It's the strangest thing, Danny," Mac touched the bandage on his injured arm and frowned. He remembered the last few days in great, and some places very vivid detail. He'd been working some mundane cases with Flack and Danny, had a long night going from crime scene to crime scene wishing for something to pique his interest. And then Mac had been called to the scene of Senator Robert Kelly's death; the death that Sid – backed up by Hawkes because it was such a high profile case – had declared as death by natural causes; a sudden and tragic coronary arrest. The media were already hyping up Kelly's binge drinking habits since the kidnap and murder of his son by terrorists. Mac would be attending the closed-casket – a strange detail that was almost burned into his memory - funeral in a few days time. The wound in his arm was fresh, a graze from a bullet no less, but as to how it had occurred... "I don't remember."


End file.
